I don't want to be a crabby old man, always saying, "Things ain't what they used to be." But the news that Bernadette Peters's successor may be Ariana Grande is a little distressing to me. I'll live.
Sondheim says content should dictate form. This idea reaches new heights in "Sunday in the Park." In the opening, George orders Dot "not to move the mouth"--so the final lines of Dot's song are, literally, a rebellion. Dot's mouth attains a life of its own: slowly, slowly, it begins to disobey George. Once again, toward the end of Act One, Dot's mouth does something interesting. Dot wills herself to accept Louie the baker--she stuffs Louie down her own throat. This is made literal through the ingestion of a pastry. While she should be eating, Dot is still talking; she is talking *around* the lump of pastry. She can't bring herself to stop her performance-for-George.
Sondheim underlines Dot's desperation:
The bread, George!
I mean....the bread....George....
And then...in BED, George....
I mean....he KNEADS me....
I mean.....like DOUGH, George....
Hello, George?
These absurd and silly lines seem like a slice of real life. They remind me of every time I try to impress a client--and the client is clearly bored. And--later, in private--I cringe. And cringe some more.
Hats off to Bernadette.
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